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PR 27 1905 




DJ3 J3 01ia\ll S-^\>IP SOl^, 



k/hU/J.^ i'?/\yr. ^//,rnn, 



AN ADDRESS 

DELIVERED IN 1802 IN VARIOUS 
TOWNS IN MASSACHUSETTS, 
RHODE ISLAND AND NEW YORK 



BY 



IRS. DEBORAH SAMPSON GANNETT 

OF SHARON, MASSACHUSETTS 

A SOLDIER OF THE 
AMERICAN REVOLUTION 



REPRINTED BY THE SHARON HISTORICAL SOCIETY 



WITH AN INTRODUCTION BY 
EUGENE TAPPAN CORRESPONDING 
SECRETARY OF TH^< SOCIETY 



BOSTON 

Press of H. M. Hight 

76 Summer Street 

1905 






I wo Oopies rieceiveii 

APR 'Ai '.yob 

looyriifi't t.i\V)i 
ju.i.;. (^ '.Xc WO! 



Copyright, 1905 
By Sharon Historical Socikiy 



INTRODUCTION TO REPRINT. 

A reprint is here given of the pamphlet published in 
Dedham, Massachusetts, in 1802, containing an address 
delivered by Mrs. Deborah Sampson Gannett of Sharon, 
Massachusetts. The pamphlet is now rare, and thanks are 
due to the Dedham Historical Society for the loan of its 
copy. The courtesy also is acknowledged of Miss Frances 
M. Mann of Dedham, for the use of the original copper 
plate from which was printed in 1797 the portrait of 
Deborah Sampson in the somewhat fanciful biography 
entitled "The Female Review, or Memoirs of an American 
Young Lady." Miss Mann is the librarian of the Dedham 
Public Library, and the granddaughter of Herman Mann, 
who wrote the Female Review. 

The address was delivered by Mrs. Gannett in 1802, 
in many towns in Massachusetts, Rhode Island and New 
York. It treats of her experience as a soldier of the Amer- 
ican Revolution. 

Deborah Sampson was born in Plympton, Massachu- 
setts, December 17, 1760. Plympton is near old Plymouth, 
of which it was formerly a part, and Deborah's ancestors 
were some of the foremost Pilgrim settlers. In a note in 
John A. Vinton's edition of the Female Review (1866), 
pp. 45, etc., the descent of Deborah is traced from Abraham 
Sampson, Miles Standish, John Alden and William Brad- 
ford, as well as from Alice Southworth and Bathsheba 
Le Broche. 

Under the name of Robert Shurtleff, Deborah Samp- 



IV INTRODUCTION TO REPRINT. 

son enlisted in the Continental army as a soldier, and 
served in Capt. George Webb's Company in the 4th Massa- 
chusetts Regiment commanded by Col. Shepard, after- 
wards by Col. Jackson. She was wounded in an engage- 
ment at Tarrytown, New York, and was honorably 
discharged in the fall of 1783. 

In the following spring she was married to Benjamin 
Gannett, the son of a patriotic citizen of Sharon, Massa- 
chusetts. Here she lived until her death, April 29, 1827, 
and reared a family of three children, Earl Bradford, Mary 
and Patience. Mary Gannett was married to Judson 
Gilbert and Patience Gannett to Seth Gay. 

In recognition of her military service, the Massachu- 
setts Legislature in 1792 granted her thirty-four pounds. 
The resolve recites "that the said Deborah exhibited an 
extraordinary instance of female heroism by discharging 
the duties of a faithful, gallant soldier, and at the same 
time preserving the virtue and chastity of her sex unsus- 
pected and unblemished, and was discharged from the 
service with a fair and honorable character." On the nth 
of March, 1805, she was allowed a pension of four dollars 
per month at the pension office in Washington. The 
pension commenced from January i, 1803, and 
was increased in 1816 to $6.40 per month. From 
1819 she drew a pension of eight dollars per month during 
her life. 

Eleven years after her death. Congress passed a 
special act (Statutes at Large, vol. 6, page 735), directing 
the secretary of the treasury to pay to the heirs of Deborah 
Gannett the sum of $466.66. The committee in reporting 
the bill, remark: "As there cannot be a parallel case in 
all time to come, the committee do not hesitate to grant 
relief." The act reads as follows : — 

Be it enacted, &c., That the Secretary of the Treasury 



Erratum. — The reference in the text to the time of the 
marriage of Deborah Sampson was based on Mr. Vinton's notes 
in the Female Review ; but the original town records of 
Stoughton give April 7, 1785, as the date. 



INTRODUCTION TO REPRINT V 

be, and he is hereby, directed to pay, out of any money in 
the treasury not otherwise appropriated, to the heirs of 
Deborah Gannett, a revolutionary soldier, and late the 
wife of Benjamin Gannett, of Sharon, in the State of 
Massachusetts, now deceased, the sum of four hundred 
and sixty-six dollars and sixty-six cents, being an equiva- 
lent for a full pension of eighty dollars per annum, from 
the fourth day of March, eighteen hundred and thirty-one, 
to the decease of Benjamin Gannett in January, eighteen 
hundred and thirty-seven, as granted in certain cases to 
the widows of revolutionary soldiers by the act passed the 
fourth day of July, eighteen hundred and thirty-six, entitled 
"An act granting half pay to widows or orphans where 
their husbands or fathers have died of wounds received in 
the military service of the United States in certain cases, 
and for other purposes." 

Approved July 7, 1838. 

In preparing the foregoing facts concerning Deborah 
Sampson's military service, use has been made of the intro- 
duction to Vinton's Edition of the Female Review already 
referred to. 

Deborah Sampson Gannett first delivered her address 
in the Federal Street Theatre in Boston, in March, 1802. 
Advertisements of the performances are found in the 
"Columbian Centinel," in the issues of March 20, 24 and 27. 
The places and times of some other deliveries of the 
address by her in the same year were : Providence, May 5 ; 
Worcester, July 22; Holden, July 30; Brookfield, August 
9; Springfield, August 13; Northampton, August 18; 
Albany, August 31 and September i; Schenectady, Sep- 
tember 7; and Ballston Springs, September 9. 

On her lecturing tour Mrs. Gannett lodged at the 
following places : — Robert Williams, Liberty Square, Bos- 
ton ; Widow Jones, Providence ; Capt. John Seamons, 



VI INTRODUCTION TO REPRINT. 

Wharf Lane, Newport Ferry ; Herman Mann, Dedham ; 
Capt. James Tisdale, Medfield; Jacob Miller, Worcester; 
Capt. George Webb, Holden ; William Howes and Capt. 
Draper, Brookfield; Eleazer Williams ("son to Dr. Wil- 
liams, formerly of Roxbury"), Springfield; Mr. Pomeroy, 
Northampton ; Alfred Pomeroy and Mr. Whitemore, 
Chesterfield; Mr. Allen, Pittsfield ; Capt. Keeler. Green 
Street, Albany; James Rogers, Schenectady; Mr. Mac- 
Master, Ballston; Capt. Ashleyeo, Troy; Mr. Booth, Hud- 
son; Mr. Streets, Catskill ; Mr. Bosticks, Easton; and Gen. 
John Paterson, Lisle. 

The fact of the Worcester address was furnished by 
Hon. Alfred S. Roe of that city, who discovered in the 
"Massachusetts Spy" of Worcester, in its issue of July 21, 
1802, the advertisement of the proposed address "in the 
Court House, tomorrow, at 5 o'clock P. M." The other 
names and dates above given, later than the Boston 
engagement, appear in a short diary kept by Mrs. Gannett, 
containing entries from May 3, 1802, to January 6, 1803. 
They are given here, partly with the hope that some 
readers may follow up a clew thus afiforded, and from 
diaries, newspapers or family traditions may reach results 
of interest to be communicated to the Sharon Historical 
Society. For such communications the thanks of the 
Society will be given. 

The longest entries in Mrs. Gannett's diary relate to 
Providence, and are as follows: — 

"1802, May 3d. I took stage in Dedham. Rode to 
Providence in company with Mr. William Billings and 
lady. This polite gentleman and lady showed every mark 
of genuine friendship. They invited me to take tea with 
them at our arrival. I informed these generous people of 
my wishes in making a public appearance, either in Mr. 
Amidon's hall or in the theatre. Mr. B. informed me that 



INTRODUCTION TO REPRINT VII 

he wished to do everything that lay in his power to assist 
me, and appeared to be much pleased in reading the bill 
of my performance in the theatre at Boston. 

"I conveyed my letters of recommendation to Mr. 
Wheeler, and this gentleman — Mr. Wheeler — came imme- 
diately, and he advised me to perform in Mr. Amidon's 
hall ; and finally I gave him my bill of the performance in 
Boston. He printed my bill, and they were set up in the 
most public places in the town, and Wednesday evening 
was to be the first of my performance. But I was quite 
unfortunate, indeed, for I was taken quite unwell, and of 
course was obliged to postpone my exhibition until Thurs- 
day evening. 

"May 5. When I entered the hall, I must say I was 
much pleased at the appearance of the audience. It ap- 
peared from almost every countenance that they were full 
of unbelief— rl mean in regard to my being the person that 
served in the revolutionary army. 

"Some of them which I happened to overhear swore 
that I was a lad of not more than eighteen years of age. I 
sat some time in my chair before I rose to deliver my 
address. When I did, I think I may with much candor 
applaud the people for their serious attention and peculiar 
respect, especially the ladies." 

The animated, flowing style and love of incident dis- 
played in the foregoing extracts make one wish that Mrs. 
Gannett had penned her own address, and not "procured" 
it to be written, as stated in her editor's introduction. 

In the Albany Register for August 31, 1802, was the 
following notice, a copy of which was furnished by Miss 
May Childs Nerney, who is in charge of the history division 
of the State Library in Albany. 



Vlll INTROPUCTION TO REPRINT 

"MRS. GANNET'S EXHIBITION 
"The ladies and gentlemen of Albany and its vicinity 
are respectfully informed that Mrs. Gannet, the celebrated 
American Heroine, who served nearly three years with 
great reputation in our Revolutionary Army, will, at the 
request of a number of respectable characters, deliver an 
Address to the inhabitants of this city and vicinity, in the 
Court House, this evening at Yi past seven o'clock. 

"Tickets may be had at the Court House from 5 
o'clock till the performance begins. Price 25 cents, children 
half price. 

"Albany, August 31, 1802." 

Under the caption of "My Expense in Albany" are 
the following bills in the diary, which show the curious 
detail work of the lecturer : — 

D.c. 

"To old key keeper 2 00 

To Mr. Barber for printing 3 00 

To Mr. Lester for filling blank and finding 

candles i 34 

To Mr. Giles for attendance 2 67 

To sweeping the court house o 48 

For cleaning the candle sticks o 20 

For brushing the seats o 17 

For the dressing my hair, 2 even i 00 

To boarding 6 00 

To washing i 34" 

Mrs. Gannett visited her captain (George Webb) in 
Holden, near Worcester, where she staid three weeks. 
She also visited her general (John Paterson) in Lisle, 
New York, where she staid a month. Of the latter visit 
she says: — "November 11 [1802] I arrived at Judge Pat- 
erson's at Lisle. This respectable family treated me with 



INTRODUCTION TO REPRINT IX 

every mark of distinction and friendship, and likewise all 
the people did the same. I really want for words to 
express my gratitude. They often met together in the 
neighborhood and had the most social meetings. They 
seemed to unite in hearty congratulations with my old 
friend, Judge Paterson, on our happy meeting." 

As General Paterson, now Judge Paterson. was a 
member of Congress, 1803 to 1805, and as Mrs. Gannett's 
pension was obtained in 1805 and ran from 1803, it would 
seem probable that he had a hand in procuring it. If so, 
it was a good pecuniary result of her lecturing venture. 
She also obtained from her lectures enough money to 
enable her to forward some to Sharon, "which I hope," 
she writes, "my family will make a good use of." 

Concerning the contents of the address, it must be 
admitted that it contains little narrative, being largely 
apologetic. The speaker alludes to adverse criticism of 
her act in enlisting as a soldier, which she owns to be an 
act of presum'ption. But she had pondered on the injustice 
of the war, and wished to be an avenger. Seizing an 
opportunity, she enlisted, and then determined to stay to 
the end. A few scenes of the war are named. Of the 
engagement of White Plains, she says : "I was there." 
The motive that caused her to enlist is referred to, which 
she seems to decide by attributing it to her fate. If a 
man had done it, he would have achieved immortal glory 
and fame. But she was a woman, and so contents herself 
with claiming her hearers' indulgence, as she is conscious 
of the approbation of God. She closes the address with 
expressing her high respect for her own sex — a respect 
increased by her rough experience. 

To make the reprint more exact, the spelling of the 
original is preserved, such as the careless omission of a 
letter in the word "ADDRSS" on the title page. This 



X INTRODUCTION TO REPRINT 

particular mistake was afterwards corrected, as is shown 
in another copy. 

The lecturing tour of Deborah Sampson Gannett in 
1802 forms a most interesting chapter in her life, as it 
shows her to be a pioneer in this field. It may be difficult 
to name a woman before her time who earned money by 
travelling alone from town to town, attending to her own 
business details and delivering an address. The writers of 
her career, however, have scarcely touched upon this sub- 
ject. The first public notice of Mrs. Gannett as a lecturer 
appears to have been taken in her own town of Sharon, 
April 3, 1902, at a banquet in the town hall commemorative 
of the centenary of the event. On this occasion, after- 
dinner speeches were made by Mrs. Mary A. Livermore 
of Melrose, Hon. Alfred S. Roe of Worcester, Mrs. Myra 
B. Hatch of Whitman, Edmund H. Talbot and Rev. Almon 
J. Dyer of Sharon. Frank E. Burbank of Sharon read an 
address written by Rev. A. A. Berle, D. D., now of Salem. 
Selections from Mrs. Gannett's diary were read by Mrs. 
Susan G. Moody, a great-granddaughter, who resides in 
the old homestead. 

The house where Deborah Sampson Gannett lived, 
somewhat changed, still stands in good preservation on 
East street, a mile from Sharon village, and her grave is 
in Rockridge cemetery, on the same street, one mile south- 
Westerly from the house. A street near by is named 
Deborah Sampson street. Many of her descendants reside 
in Sharon and the adjoining towns. The honored name 
of their ancestress is often pronounced, and visits are 
often made to her home and her grave. A new tribute to 
the memory of Mrs. Gannett will appear on the soldiers' 
monument soon to be erected a short distance from her 
grave, from funds bequeathed for the purpose in the will 
of her grandson, George Washington Gay, late of Sharon. 



INTRODUCTION TO REPRINT xi 

He was son of Seth and Patience Gay above mentioned. 
After providing for the monument, the testator says: "I 
further request to have the name Deborah Sampson Gan- 
nett, with proper reference to her service in the war of the 
revolution, inscribed on the same memorial stone." 

EUGENE TAPPAN. 
Sharon, April, 1905. 



A N 

A D D R S S, 

delivered with applause, 
At the Federal-Street Theatre, Boston, 

FOUR SUCCESSIVE NIGHTS OF THE DIFFERENT 
PLAYS, BEGINNING MARCH 22, l802; 

AND AFTER, AT OTHER PRINCIPAL TOWNS, A 

NUMBER OF NIGHTS SUCCESSIVELY 

AT EACH PLACE ; 

By Mrs. DEBORAH GANNET, 

THE AMERICAN HEROINE, 

Who seni^d three years jvith reputation (undiscovered as a 
Female) in the late American Army. 



PUBLISHED AT THE REQUEST OF THE AUDIENCES. 



Copi? IRiGht Sccure^. 



Printed aw// Sold by H. Mann, y<?r Mrs. Gannet, 
a/ M<f Minerva Office, — 1802. 



INTRO D UCTIO N. 



The character and achievtments of Mrs. Gannett, late 
Deborah Sampson, the American Heroine^ have excited much 
curiosity in the United States. At the close of the revolution, 
she retired to an obscure part of Massachusetts, selected, or rather 
was selected, a partner of an industrious farmer. Frotn her 
Memoirs, since published, and the best, nearest information, she 
continues to support, with reputation, the offices of Wife, Mother 
and Friend — affable in her disposition, courteous in her man- 
ners, and universally benevolent. 

It is from.- her jiatnrally ambitious disposition, and taste 
for a more elevated stile of life, that she is induced to re-visit 
som,e of the principal places, ivhich were the theatre of her per- 
sonatins; the soldier — to appear in public, to open the eyes of the 
incredulous, and to wipe off any aspersions, which the whispers 
of satire, caprice, or malevolence may have zvantonly thrown 
upon her. 

This resolution being communicated to a number of re- 
spectable Characters, she received invitations from, them,, to m.ake 
her appearance on the Boston Theatre, and to give a recital of 
some of the principal traits of her life. This proposal caught 
both her fancy and her wishes, honorably to enhance the pecuniary 
interest of her family ; which she is said industriously to econ- 
omize. 

She accordingly procured the following, which she re- 
markably soon committed, verbatim, to memory, except an ad- 



^. INTRODUCTION. 

dition since of about three pages. Under the superintendence oj 
Messrs. Powell and Harper, sJie was ushered on to the Stage 
in a very polite manner ; where, before a crouded assembly, per- 
fectly unabashed, she very audibly recited her naration. In the 
Manual Exercise, being in complete ufiifortn, and during the 
Soldier's Festival, she acquitted herself with peculiar ease and 
grace. — Afi attendant has since introduced her to the Audience by 
the follozving 

prospect U0. 

Ye Guardian Friends of Liberty and Peace, 
Our surest hope of merit, pozver, increase, 
Mark here those traits so rare in Female's name ; 
She does not speak, nor do I yir\X.Q, for fame. 
Her boldest claim is simple, genine Truth ; 
Her humblest plea is for her Sex atid Youth. 
May not base calumny her deeds supplant ; 
Your Patronage as from a Parent, grant. — 
Ren Britain s Fair, though proud, this truth must ozvn — 
When Liberty's at stake, a FEMALE storms the Throne ! 



HDSJlRieSS, 



N, 



OT unlike the example of the patriot and philan- 
thropist, though perhaps perfectly so in effect, do I 
awake from the tranquil slumbers of retirement, to 
active, public scenes of life, like those which now sur- 
round me. That genius which is the prompter of curi- 
osity, and that spirit which is the support of e^iterprize, 
early drove, or, rather illured me, from the corner of 
humble obscurity — their cheering aspect has again pre- 
vented a torpid rest. 

Secondary to these are the solicitations of a number 
of worthy characters and friends, too persuasive and 
congenial with my own disposition to be answered with 
indifference, or to be rejected, have induced me thus to 
advance and bow submissive to an audience, simply and 
concisely to rehearse a tale of truth; which, though it 
took its rise, and finally terminated in the splendor of 
public life, I was determined to repeat only as the solil- 
oquy of a hermit, or to the visionary phantoms, which 
hover through the glooms of solitude. 

A Tale — the truth of which I was ready to say, 
but which, perhaps, others have already said for me, 
ought to expel me from the enjoyment of society, from 



THEATRICAL ADDRESS. 



the acknowledgment of my own sex, and from the 
endearing friendship of the other. But this, I venture 
to pronounce, would be saying too much : For as I 
should thus not respect myself, should be entitled to 
none from othei^s. 

I Indeed recollect it as a foible, an error and pre- 
sumption, into which, perhaps, I have too inadvertantly 
and precipitately run; but which I now retrospect with 
anguish and amazement — recollect it, as a Thomson, or 
any other moralizing naturalist, susceptible to the like 
fine feelings of nature, recollects the howling blasts of 
winter, at a period when Flora has strewed the earth 
with all her profusion of delicacies, and whose zephyrs 
are wasting their fragrance to heighten our sensations 
of tranquility and pleasure; — or, rather, perhaps, I 
ought to recollect it, as a marriner, having regained his 
native shore of serenity and peace, looks back on the 
stormy billows which, so long and so constantly had 
threatened to ingulph him in the bowels of the deep! 
And yet I must frankly confess, I recollect it with a 
kind of satisfaction, which no one can better conceive 
and enjoy than him, who, recollecting the good mtentions 
of a bad deed, lives to see and to correct any indecorum 
of his life. 

But without further preliminary apologies, yet with 
every due respect towards this brilliant and polite circle, 
I hasten to a review of the most conspicuous parts of 
that path, which led to achievements, which some have 
believed, but which many still doubt. Their accomplish- 
ment once seemed to me as impossible, as that I am 



THEATRICAL ADDRESS. 7 

author of them, is now incredible to the incredulous, or 
wounding to the ear of more refined delicacy and taste. 
They are a breach in the decorum of my sex, unquestion- 
ably; and, perhaps, too unfortunately ever irreconcilable 
with the rigid maxims of the moralist; and a sacrifice, 
which, while it may seem perfectly incompatible with 
the requirements of virtue — and which of course must 
ring discord in the ear, and disgust to the bosom of 
sensibility and refinement, I must be content to leave to 
time and the most scrutinizing enquiry to disclose. 

Unlettered in any scholastic school of erudition, 
you will not expect, on this occasion, the entertainment 
of the soft and captivating sounds of eloquence ; but 
rather a naration of facts in a mode as uncouth as they 
are unnatural. Facts — which, though I once experi- 
enced, and of which memory has ever been painfully 
retentive, I Cannot now make you feel, or paint to the 
life. 

Know then, that my juv^enile mind early became 
inquisitive to understand — not merely w^hether the prin- 
ciples, or rather the seeds of war are analagous to the 
genuine nature of man — not merely to know why he 
should forego every trait of humanity, and to assume 
the character of a brute; or, in plainer language, why 
he should march out tranquilly, or in a paroxism of rage 
against his fellow-man, to butcher, or be butchered ? — for 
these, alas! were too soon horribly verified by the mas- 
sacres in our streets, in the very streets which encom- 
pass this edifice — in yonder adjacent villas,* on yonder 

*Lexington, and the adjacent towns and hamlets, when the 
British marched out of Boston to destroy the military stores at Concord. 



' 8 THEATRICAL ADDRESS. 

memorable eminence,* where now stand living monu- 
ments of the atrocious, the heart-distracting, mementous 
scenes, that followed in rapid succession ! 

This I am ready to affirm, though it may be deemed 
unnatural in my sex, is not a demoralization pi human 
nature. The sluices, both of the blood of freemen and 
of slaves, were first opened here. And those hills and 
vallies, once the favorite resort, both of the lover and 
philosopher, have been drunk with their blood ! A new 
subject was then opened to the most pathetic imagina- 
tion, and to the rouzing of every latent spark of human- 
ity, one should think, in the bosoms of the wolves, as 
well as in those of the sJieep, for whose blood they were 
so thirsty. 

But most of all, my mind became agitated with the 
enquiry — why a nation, separated from us by an ocean 
more than three thousand miles in extent, should en- 
deavor to enforce on us plans of subjugation, the most 
unnatural in themselves, unjust, inhuman, in their opera- 
tions, and unpractised even by the uncivilized savages of 
the wilderness? Perhaps nothing but the critical junc- 
ture of the times could have excused such a philosophi- 
cal disquisition of politics in woman, notwithstanding it 
was a theme of universal speculation and concern to 
man. We indeed originated from her, as from a parent, 
and had, perhaps, continued to this period in subjection 
to her mandates, had we not discovered, that this, her 
romantic, avaricious and cruel disposition extended to 
tnurder, after having bound the slave! 

*Breed's Hill — wrortirlv called Bunker Hill. 



THEATRICAL ADDRESS. 



Confirmed by this time in the justness of a defen- 
sive war on the one side, from the most aggravated one 
on the other — my mind ripened with my strength; and 
while our beds and our roses were sprinkled with the 
blood of indiscriminate youth, beauty, innocence and 
decrepit old age, I only seemed to want the license to 
become one of the severest avengers of the wrong. 

For several years I looked on these scenes of 
havoc, rapacity and devastation, as one looks on a 
drowning man, on the conflagration of a city — where 
are not only centered his coffers of gold, but with them 
his choicest hopes, friends, companions, his all — without 
being able to extend the rescuing hand to either. 

Wrought upon at length, you may say, by an 
ethusiasm and phrenzy, that could brook no control — I 
burst the tyrant bands, which held my sex in awe, and 
clandestinely, or by stealth, grasped an opportunity, 
which custom and the world seemed to deny, as a 
natural priviledge. And whilst poverty, hunger, naked- 
ness, cold and disease had dwindled the American 
Armies to a handful — whilst universal terror and dismay 
ran through our camps, ran through our country — while 
even WASHINGTON himself, at their head, though 
like a god, stood, as it were, on a pinacle tottering over 
the abyss of destruction, the last prelude to our falling 
a wretched prey to the yawning jaws of the monster 
aiming to devour — not merely for the sake of gratifying 
a fecetious curiosity, like that of my reputed Predeces- 
sor, in her romantic excursions throusfh the srarden of 
bliss — did I throw off the soft habiliments of my sex. 



lO THEATRICAL ADDRESS. 

and assume those of the ivarrior, already prepared for 
battle. 

Thus I became an actor in that important drama, 
with an inflexible resolution to persevere through the 
last scene; when we might be permitted and , acknowl- 
edged to enjoy what we had so nobly declared we would 
possess, or lose with our lives — Freedom and Indepen- 
dence! — When the philosopher might resume his re- 
searches unmolested — the statesman be disembarrassed 
by his distracting theme of national politics — the divine 
find less occasion to invoke the indignation of heaven 
on the usurpers and cannibals of the inherent rights 
and even existence of man — when the son should again 
be restored to the arms of his disconsolate parent, and 
the lover to the bosom of her, for whom indeed he is 
willing to jeopard his life, and for whom alone he wishes 
to live! 

A NEW scene, and, as it were, a new world now 
opened to my view; the objects of which now seemed 
as important, as the transition before seemed unnatural. 
It would, however, here be a weakness in me to mention 
the tear of repentence, or of that of temerity, from 
which the stoutest of my sex are, or ought not to be, 
wholly exempt on extreme emergencies, which many 
times involuntarily stole into my eye, and fell unheeded 
to the ground: And that too before I had reached the 
embattled field, the ramparts, which protected its internal 
resources — which shielded youth, beauty, and the deli- 
cacy of that sex at home, which perhaps I had forfeited 
in turning volunteer in their defence. Temeritis — when 



THEATRICAL ADDRESS. II 

reflections on my former situation, and this new kind of 
being, were daggers more frightful, than all the imple- 
ments of war — when the rustling of every leaf was an 
omen of danger, the whisper of each wind, a tale of woe! 
If then the poignancy of thought stared me thus hag- 
gardly in the face, found its way to the inmost recesses 
of my heart, thus forcibly, in the commencement of my 
career — what must I not have anticipated before its 
close! 

The curtain is now up — a scene opens to your 
view; but the objects strike your attention less forcibly, 
and less interestingly, than they then did, not only my 
own eyes, but every energetic sensation of my soul. 
What shall I say further? Shall I not stop short, and 
leave to your imaginations to pourtray the tragic deeds 
of war? Is it not enough, that I here leave it even to 
unexperience. to fancy the hardships, the anxieties, the 
dangers, even of the best life of a soldier? And were it not 
improper, were it not unsafe, were it not indelicate, and 
were I certain I should be intitled to a pardon, I would 
appeal to the soft bosom of my own sex to draw a 
parallel between the perils and sexual inconveniences of 
a girl in her teens, and not only in the armour, but in 
the capacity, at any rate, obliged to perform the duties 
in the field — and those who go to the camp without a 
masquerade, and consequently subject only to what toils 
and sacrifices they please : Or, will a conclusion be 
more natural from those who sometimes take occasion 
to complain by their own domestic fire-sides; but who, 
indeed, are at the same time in affluence, cherished in 
the arms of their companions, and sheltered from the 

storms of war by the rougher sex in arms? 

L.OT C. 



12 THEATRICAL ADDRESS. 

Many have seen, and many can contemplate, in the 
field of imagination, battles and victories amidst gar- 
ments rolled in blood: but it is only one of my own sex, 
exposed to the storm, who can conceive of my situation. 

We have all heard of, many have doubtless seen, 
the meteor streaming through or breaking in the hori- 
zon — the terrific glare of the comet, in its approach 
towards, or in its declension from us, in its excentric 
orbit — the howling of a tempest — the electric fluid, 
which darts majesty and terror through the clouds — its 
explosion and tremendous effects! — Bostonians, and 
you who inhabit its environs, you who have known from 
experience your houses and your hills tremble from the 
cannonade of Charlestown, — your ears are yet wounded 
by the shrieks of her mangled and her distressed — your 
eyes swimming in a deluge of anguish at the sight of 
our butchered, expiring relatives and friends; while the 
conflagration of the town added the last solemnity to 
the scene! 

This idea must assimulate with the progress of this 
horrid delusion of war. Hence you can behold the 
parched soil of White-Plains drink insatiate the blood 
of her most peaceful and industrious proprietors — of 
freemen, 2i\\d. of slaves/ I was there! The recollection 
makes me shudder! — A dislocated limb draws fresh 
anguish from my heart! 

You may have heard the thunderings of a volcano 
— you may have contemplated, with astonishment and 
wonder, the burial of a city by its eruption. Your ears 



THEATRICAL ADDRESS. I3 

then are yet deafened from the thunderings of the in- 
vasion of York Town — your eyes dazzled, your imagina- 
tions awfully sublimed, by the fire which belched from 
its environs, and towered, like that from an eruption of 
Etna, to the clouds! Your hearts yet bleed, from 
every principle of humanity, at the recollection of the 
havoc, carnage and death that reigned there! 

Three successive weeks, after a long and rapid 
march, found me amidst this storm. — But, happy for 
America, happy for Europe, perhaps for the World, 
when, on the delivery of Cornwallis's sword to the 
illustrious, the immortal WASHINGTON, or rather 
by his order, to the brave Lincoln, the sun of Liberty 
and Indepefidejice burst through a sable cloud, and his 
benign influence was, almost instantaneously, felt in our 
remotest corners! The phalanx of war was thus broken 
through, and the palladium of peace blossoming on its 
ruins. 

I will not hence urge you to retrace with me 
(tranquilly you surely cannot) all the footsteps of our 
valient heroic Leaders through the distraction both of 
elements and of war. I will not even pourtray an at- 
tempt to reinforce the brave Schuyler, then on the 
borders of Canada; where, if the war-whoop of infernals 
should not strike you with dismay, the tommahawk 
would soon follow! 

Nor need I point you to the death-like doors of the 
hospital in Philadelphia, whose avenues were crouded 



14 THEATRICAL ADDRESS. 

with the sick, the dying and the dead; though myself 
made one of the unhappy croud! 

You have now but the shade of a picture; which 
neither time nor my abiUties will permit me to show 
you to the life. The haggard fiend, despair, may have 
stared you in the face, when giving over the pursuit of 
a favorite, lost child: And it is only in this torture of 
suspense that we can rightly conceive of its situation. 

Such is my experience — not that I ever mourned 
the loss of a child, but that I considered myself as lost ! 
For, on the one hand, if I fell not a victim to the infuri- 
ate rabble of a mob, or of a war not yet fully terminated 
— a disclosure of my peculiar situation seemed infinitely 
worse than either. And if from stratagem and persever- 
ance, I may acquire as great knowledge in every respect 
as I have of myself in this, my knowledge, at least of 
human nature, will be as complete as it is useful. 

But we will now hasten from the field, from the 
embattled entrenchments, built for the destruction of 
man, from a long, desolating war, to contemplate more 
desirable and delightful scenes. And notwithstanding 
curiosity may prompt any to retrace the climax of our 
revolution, the means, under a smiling, superintending 
providence, by which we have outrode the storms of 
danger and distress — what heart will forget to expand 
with joy and gratitude, to beat in unison, at the pro- 
pitious recollection. f* And I enquire, what infant tongue 
can ever forget or cease being taught to lisp the praises 
of WASHINCzTON, and those of that bright constella- 



THEATRICAL ADDRESS. I 5 

tion of WORTHIES, who swell the list of Columbian 
fame — those, by whose martial skill and philanthropic 
labors, we were first led to behold, after a long and 
stormy night, the smiling sun of Peace burst on our be- 
nighted World! And while we drop a tear over the 
flowery turf of those patriots and sages, may she unriv- 
alled enjoy and encrease her present bright sunshine of 
happiness! May agriculture and commerce, industry 
and manufactures, arts and sciences, virtue and decorum, 
union and harmony — those richest sources of our worth, 
and strongest pillars of our strength, become stationary, 
like fixed stars in the firmament, to flourish in her 
clime! 

Hail dearest Liberty! thou source sublime! 

What rays refulgent dart upon our clime! 

For thee the direful contest has been waged, 

Our hopue, and all that life held dear engaged. 

Thee the prime offspring which my thoughts employ, 

Once sought with grief — now turns that grief to joy. 

Your beatific influence extend 

O'er Africa, whose sable race befriend. 

May Europe, as our sister-empire, join, 

To hail thee rising with your power divine, 

From the lone cottage to the tyrant's throne. 

May Liberty, ethereal guest, be known! 

Be thou preserved for nations yet unborn, 

Fair as the shining Star that decks the morn. 

But the question again returns — What particular 
inducement could she have thus to elope from the soft 
sphere of her own sex, to perform a deed of valor by way 
of sacrilege on unhallowed ground — voluntarily to face 
tlie storms both of elements and ivar, in th^ character of 



l6 THEATRICAL ADDRESS. 

him^ who is more fitly made to brave and e^tdure all 
danger ? 

And dost thou ask what fairy hand inspired 
A Nymph to be with martial glory tired? 
Or, what from art, or yet from nature's laws, 
Has join'd a Female to her country's cause? 
Why on great Mars's theatre she drew 
Her/^»z<z/<r pourtrait, though in soldier's hue? 

Then ask — why Cincinnatus left his farm? 
Why science did old Plato's bosom warm? 
Why Hector in the Trojan war should dare? 
Or why should Homer trace his actions there? 
Why Newt<:)n in philosophy has shown? 
Or Charles, for solitude, has left his throne ? 
Why Locke in metaphysics should delight — 
Precisian sage, to set false reason right ? 
Why Albion's Sons should kindle up a war ? 
Why Jove or Vulcan hurried on the car ? 
Perhaps the same propensity you use, 
Has prompted her a martial course to choose. 
Perhaps to gain refinements where she could, 
This rare achievement for her country's good. 
Or was some hapless lover from her torn — 
As Emma did her valient Hammon mourn ? 
Else he must tell, who would this truth attain, 
Why one is formed for pleasure — one for pain : 
Or, boldly, why our Maker made us such — 
Why here he gives too little — there too much! 

I WOULD not purposely evade a a pertinent answer; 
and yet I know not, at present, how to give a more par- 
ticular one than has already been suggested. 

I AM indeed willing to acknowledge what I have 
done, an error and presumption. 1 will call it an error 



THEATRICAL ADDRESS. I7 

and presumption, because I swerved from the accus- 
tomed flowry paths of female delicacy, to walk upon the 
heroic precipice of feminine perdition! — I indeed left 
my morning pillow of roses, to prepare a couch of 
brambles for the night ; and yet I awoke from this re- 
freshed, to gather nought but the thorns of anguish for 
the next night's repose — and in the precipitancy of pas- 
sion, to prepare a moment for repentance at leisure! 

Had all this been achieved by the rougher hand, 
more properly assigned to wield the sword in duty and 
danger in a defensive war, the most cruel in its measures, 
though important in its consequences ; these thorns 
might have been converted into wreaths of immortal 
glory and fame. I therefore yield every claim of honor 
and distinction to the hero and patriot, who met the foe 
in his own name ; though not with more heartfelt satis- 
faction, with the trophies, which were most to redound 
to the future grandeur and importance of the country 
in which he lives. 

But repentance is a sweet solace to conscience, as 
well as the most complete atonement to the Supreme 
Judge of our offences: notwithstanding the tongue of 
malevolence and scurrility may be continually preparing 
its most poisonous ingredients for the punishment of a 
crime which has already received more than half a 
pardon. 

Yet if even this be deemed too much of an exten- 
uation of a breach in the modesty of t\\& female world — 
humilized and contented will I sit down inglorious, for 



l8 THEATRICAL ADDRESS. 

having unfortunately performed an important part as- 
signed for another — like a bewildered star traversing 
out of its accustomed orbit, whose twinkling beauty at 
most has become totally obscured in the presence of the 
sun. 

But as the rays of the sun strike the eye 'with the 
greatest lustre when emerging from a thick fog, and as 
those actions which have for their objects the extended 
hand of charity to the indigent and wretched — to re- 
store a bewildered traveller to light — and, to reform in 
ourselves any irregular and forlorn course of life; so, 
allowing myself to be one or the greatest of these, do I 
still hope for some claim on the indulgence and patron- 
age of the public; as in such case I might be conscious 
of the approbation of my God. 

I CANNOT, contentedly, quit this subject or this 
place, without expressing, more emphatically, my high 
respect and veneration for my own sex. The indul- 
gence of this respectable circle supercedes my merit, as 
well as my most sanguine expectations. You receive at 
least in return my warmest gratitude. And though you 
can neither have, or perhaps need, from me the instruc- 
tions of the sage, or the advice of the counsellor ; you 
surely will not be wholly indifferent to my most sincere 
declaration of friendship for that sex, for which this 
checkered flight of my life may have rendered me the 
least ornamental example; but which, neither in adver- 
sity or prosperity, could I ever learn to forget or de- 
grade. 

I TAKK it to be from the greatest extremes both 



THEATRICAL ADDRESS. I9 

in virtue and in vice, that the uniformly virtuous and 
reformed in Hfe can derive the greatest and most salu- 
tary truths and impressions. — Who, for example, can 
contemplate for a moment, the prodigal — from the time 
of his revelry with harlots, to that of his eating husks 
with swine, and to his final return to his father — with- 
out the greatest emotion of disgust, pity and joy? And 
is it possible to behold the effects of the unprincipled 
conduct of the libertine^ the bacchanalian, the debauchee, 
and what is more wretched of all, of the emaciated, 
haggard form of a modern baggage in the streets, 
without bringing into exercise every passion of abhor- 
rence and commisseration.'' And yet, happy, those, who 
at the same time receive a monitor which fixes a resolve, 
never to embark on such a sea of perdition; where we 
see shipwreck of all that is enobling to the dignity of 
man — all that is lovely and amiable in the character of 
woman ! 

I CANNOT, indeed bring the adventures, even of the 
worst part of my own life, as parallels with this black 
catalogue of crimes. But in whatever I may be thought 
to have been unnatural, unwise and indelicate, it is now 
my most fervent desire it may have a suitable impres- 
sion on you — and on me, a penitent for every wrong 
thought and step. The rank you hold in the scale of 
beings is, in many respects, superior to that of man. 
Nurses of his growth, and invariable models of his hab- 
its, he becomes a suppliant at your shrine, emulous to 
please, assiduous to cherish and support, to live and to 
die for you! Blossoms from your very birth, you be- 
come his admiration, his joy, his eden companions in 



20 THEATRICAL ADDRESS. 

this world. — How important then is it, that these blos- 
soms bring forth such fruit, as will best secure your 
own delights and felicity, and those of him, whose every 
enjoyment, and even his very existence, is so peculiarly 
interwoven with your own! 

On the whole, as we readily acquiesce in the ac- 
knowledgment, that the field and the cabinet are the 
proper spheres assigned to our Masters and our 
Lords; may we, also, deserve the dignified title and 
encomium of Mistress and Lady, in our kitchens and 
in our parlours. And as an overruling providence may 
succeed our wishes — let us rear an offspring in every 
respect worthy to fill the most illustrious stations of 
their predecessors. 




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